Masques
by AliceHeart247
Summary: One-shot inspired by two posts from the Tumblr askthephantom-blog-blog. Christine comes back to Erik with a tearful secret. Will he still accept her?


**A/N: Here's another one-shot for you all while I slowly but surely work my way through** ** _Moonlight Serenade_** **(my next long fic). This one is inspired by two separate posts from Tumblr on the askthephantom-blog-blog. You all should go check it out if you haven't already! Both are drawings based on two different anonymous asks. I found them too wonderful to go without. The first was: "If Christine wanted you back, would you accept her?" The second...well, I'll tell you at the end. Enjoy!**

I had resigned myself to death long before she left. I knew, as any man as deeply in love or as remarkably hopeless as I, would be. I just happened to be both of those things. A deadly combination when the woman you have sworn your heart to is in love with another so much your opposite it is nearly comical. To think someone such as myself could love her, but she is attracted to everything I am not. And yet, for one shining and shimmering moment, I thought perhaps she could care. I should have known better.

I let her go. Perhaps that was to be my last and most poetically beautiful mistake. But what can you do when you are so madly in love that you threaten the life of the man she _does_ care for? What can you do when you love her so completely that not putting her through the pain of unhappiness is more important than your own?

I let her go because I loved her. I had known it was wrong to do anything else in that moment. To kill the boy would have destroyed her. To keep her with me would have done the same. I took the only option left. I destroyed myself. That is what you are supposed to do for love, is it not? Sacrifice yourself for the one you could never live without?

Live without her, I could not. I had resigned myself, as I said earlier, to death without her in my life. For what was life without her smiling by my side? What was life if I could not hear her voice ringing through my ears and heart?

At least, that was the plan. And, of course, my plans are forever ignored by Fate unless I am to fail. Death according to Fate, apparently, is too much of a good thing for me. I was denied like I should have been denied when I tried to take her. No, Fate likes to watch me fail in the things I want.

There I was, laid down in my coffin in the house on the lake, ready to close my eyes forever. My manuscript of my Magnum Opus, _Don Juan Triumphant_ , was held to my breast. Then the Siren went off on her piercing call.

I considered ignoring it, thinking perhaps the Persian had been foolish enough to come down and visit even after I had said my goodbyes to him earlier in the week. I wondered if I just played dead if it would go away and leave me to actually die. This contemplation made me laugh dryly. When had I been so childish? Still, the call nagged at that bad trait of mine: curiosity.

Trudging from my fairly comfortable coffin, into the boat to pole across the lake, and then into the tunnels beyond. I wove through the darkness, able to see everything with what most would likely consider strange clarity. I had always seen better in the dark, and now, as I dodged my own traps in my long memorised pattern, I began to wonder who had been foolish enough to dare come down here. I imagined either the Daroga or some poor stage hand caught in one of my traps, fearing if anything would come to rescue them or just finish them off.

I turned the corner to see not my dark skinned, self-appointed caretaker or any of the staff of the Opéra above, but the fair angel who continued to rule my heart in unsteady beats.

Christine stood, ever an angel, in a midnight velvet dress with star white lace and shadow black ribbons. She was the night sky incarnate with her pale face rivalling the moon. She stood there, blinking in the utter darkness, looking distressed and lost. That must have been why she had set off the trap, for in her hand rested the tripwire. She still knew me far too well.

I must have whispered her name, for she dropped the wire and searched eagerly in the darkness for me. Landing on my slightly luminous eyes, hers began to water slightly. This sight alone made my heart constrict painfully.

'Why are you…?' I could hardly speak for the sight of her enchanting me so. I would happily have remained asleep if it had dared turned out to be a dream.

'Raoul called off the engagement,' she said so easily it almost made me laugh. 'He doesn't love me anymore and I have nowhere to go.'

I stood in place, just memorising every detail of her before me. Would I ever cease to love this woman? I sincerely hope not.

She stepped forward, likely unsure as to why I had remained silent. I honestly could not think of a single reason for her to be here with me. Her broken love-life did not affect me unless…No! It could not possibly be.

Yet it was.

As she took a tentative step towards me, I could see it clearly in her sage green eyes, framed so wonderfully by her coffee coloured curls.

'Erik,' my name sung upon her lips, caressing the air with her ethereal voice, 'I'm sorry for all I did to you. I was wrong about so many things. Especially,' here she paused, making my head spin and my heart leap in anxiety. 'In how I feel about you.'

She looked at me so sincerely then. I could place the sky within those shimmering eyes.

'Will-will you ever forgive me, Erik?'

No sooner had she uttered those words than my arms wrapped round her, crushing her body to mine as I buried my sobbing face into her soft hair.

I knew I wept like a fool, but she wept with me. She held me just as desperately as we both stood there, crying in the dark like two lost children. My love for her bleed through my eye and choking my throat with sobs. I wondered if I could ever truly let go of her after this. Instead, I focused on living out my life in this moment.

It was only when her teeth began to chatter from the cold that it occurred to me I should take her out of the tunnels.

Scooping her as effortlessly as ever into my arms, however, I hesitated. I realised she might not wish me to take her back to my home, filled as it was with horrid and tearful memories. She may feel the same if I took her to her dressing room, though. I wavered, caught by indecision and feeling the warmth of her body continue to be stolen by the cold and drafty tunnels.

Snuggling into my chest, her tears wetting my shirt so that her warm breath could heat through to the skin beneath, she gave me my answer.

'Take me home,' she said, clearly comfortable in my arms which now battled tremors from her closeness.

I set off indeed towards home, weaving through the hewn rock of the underground labyrinth. I knew the way blindfolded, which was good as her presence distracted me beyond reason. My mind, now slightly more grounded to logic, spun fervently to try and determine why she was here. Of all the people to use to seek refuge, why me? Why not find the Girys, or asked the managers of the Opéra for her job back as well as accommodations? Perhaps she had and the two new fools who ran the theatre had turned her down. They would boil like my blood at this thought if they had. But no, she had come to me, her tutor turned tormentor. It was an odd turn of events which no part of me could find the decency to question right now. She needed me, and here I was.

Placing her delicately into the boat, I poled us swiftly and smoothly across the stilled waters. She remained coiled slightly, likely trying to fend off the cold. I would have assured her of our quick approach to my home, but I could not bring my mouth to movement.

Lifting her from the boat and carrying her through the front door like the bride I had long envisioned her as being, I carefully laid her on the divan in front of the fireplace, hurrying to light it for her so that she may find a reprieve from the overwhelming darkness. The fire burst into life, but I did not stop until I had pulled the heavy woollen blanket down from the back of my reading chair to cast over her.

I was just about to go to the kitchen and make her tea or soup when her hand caught mine. Such a little gesture, but I suppose it did what she wanted. It stopped me dead in my tracks to look down at her with wonder filled uncertainty. Surely she knew who she held in place with her thin, slender fingers.

'Would you like tea?' I could have slapped myself for letting that be the first real words from my mouth all evening.

She shook her head and gave my hand, the tether keeping me from flying up to the heavens, a slight tug. I instantly dropped to my knees before her, my eyes watering with pre-emptive pleas. If she were sad, I would beg her to tell me what she needed. If she were angry, I would beg her forgiveness. If she were happy, I would simply beg.

'Christine, my love, why have you come back to wretched Erik? Why?' I truly wished to know and her eyes looked so honest in this moment, I though perhaps she would tell me.

Instead, they seemed to close off from me, becoming distant. I prepared for a harsh word or plea for release from my horrid company, saying she had not been thinking clearly for even daring to come here again.

Once more she defied expectation by letting her eyes well like mine. 'I needed you.'

This simple answer sent me over the edge once more. I must have begged for everything under the sun from her as I wept into her blanket covered skirts. I was nothing more than a worm, not fit to live on the ground with her. I nearly prostrated myself to prove my point. I had needed her so desperately that I had forgotten how harmful my fits could be to her.

Daring a glance up showed her tear stained face, looking at me in pitying fear. I was about to thrust myself to the floor once again when she slid from the divan, burying me in her sudden embrace.

Never in my life apart from her, had I been pressed to a woman's breast for comfort. I wept further at the kindness, most likely voicing my sentiments brokenly and horribly. I dared, oh trying me, to hold her gently in return. My arms snaked round to entwine my fingers in the ends of her hair and to feel the warmth of her lower back seeping deliciously through her dress. I could tell she still followed my long ago sternly given instructions of never wearing a corset.

She was beauty and kindness and everything I wanted but could never hope to deserve.

'Shhh, Erik. It's all right. I'm here with you. You are not alone anymore.' She cooed these words so softly, I felt as though I were nothing but a babe in her arms.

I looked up to see her turn her head and smile down at me. She smiled, truly and sincerely smiled. I thought I would die from the goodness and light shining down from her. A black spot like me should be wiped away by the light she emitted.

It only grew from there as she leaned her face down, closer to my hideous one. She was so beautiful I could not hardly think. Then, she did something she had not done before. She kissed me. My first and only kisses were from her that night which now seemed so long ago, and they were gingerly placed upon my forehead. These, oh, these were on my lips. So thin and likely cracked, yet she worked her lush ones against them almost as though she were a healing balm.

I remained frozen, my hands shocked to stillness. My eyes were wide in I knew not exactly what. Her breath was skating across my chin, running into the barriers of my masked cheeks.

My eyes began to feel the strain of my stare when her fingers moved to my face. Oh, how light and gentle they were. Her fingertips worked their soothing wonders upon my jaw and neck.

She pulled back only once and it was so quick I hardly had time to miss the connection until her lips were back upon mine, her hair now brushing against my brow. This thought mixed with the suddenly cool air on my face made me almost pull back. She had removed my mask! It lay a ways away, sitting where she had carelessly tossed it. Yet she still kissed me!

My eyes finally closed and my fingers relaxed when bliss overwhelmed me. She had parted my lips and was now slipping her tongue between my teeth. She moaned into my throat as my nerves finally started to fire properly. My hands slid along her form, taking in every detail. My lips now moving to match her wonderful rhythm. I allowed myself to enjoy her, breathe her in, and feel her weight upon me as we leaned back towards the suddenly welcoming space of open floor in front of the fire.

I whimpered plaintively into her throat and she returned it with delicious fervour. It was then that I grew bold, beginning to seek her out. My tongue dared creep towards her lips, touching them and sending sparks through my whole being. My hands found her sides, slipping towards her velvet covered breasts. I could have screamed in ecstasy to feel her lean into me.

Fear began to flash through me as I felt her withdraw. We were both panting, but I did not want it to stop. I wanted her. All of her. I wanted to feel her silken skin against mine as we danced and swam in passion. But she pecked my lips a few more times in parting before sitting up fully.

I wanted to join her, but my body was not acting the way I wished. It was still buzzing from the heated moment we had just shared. Finally managing to prop myself up on my elbows, I looked to her. She gazed back with a darkness in her eyes I had never seen before. I could only assume it was in mine as well.

I reached out to her, trailing my fingertips just lightly over her kiss swollen lips, beaming red in the limited light. Her cheeks were equally flushed and I wished to graze my knuckles across those as well, but she recoiled from my hand.

In that one moment of avoidance, all of my confidence and bravado swept from me to leave the cowering shell.

'I'm sorry. Forgive me.' I must have begged this countless times, hiding my face from her. I put my hands up to cover the hideous flesh, sunken eyes, and nose-less gore which were my features. I looked about desperately for my mask, and stood to retrieve it. I knew her eyes followed my motions, but I could not meet them. Replacing it on my cadaver of a face, I turned, eyes downcast in repentance.

'Forgive me, Christine. I should never have done that to you. I swear never to touch you again.' I held my still trembling hands behind my back and stood there, awaiting the blows of hard accusations.

' _I_ was the one who kissed _you_ , Erik,' she argued from her seat on the floor.

'Yes, but I should have stopped it. I am sorry.'

'Erik,' she rose then in one swift and glorious motion. 'Do not apologise. I don't regret it.' She searched out my eyes, but I hid them too well, even from her comparably smaller stature. Reaching up, she placed her hand on the patch of skin available on my jaw before the mask took over. 'Do you?' she asked, searching the now attentive eyes which had snapped to her upon her contact.

I must have looked like a fish the way I gaped a few times, but no words came out. She only smiled softly. My hand came up to touch her cheek, but she leaned away almost imperceptibly so I quickly curled my fingers in. She looked a bit saddened by this, but did not say anything.

'Are you hungry, my dear?' I asked, knocking out yet another brilliant question in my few words spoken sanely this night.

'No, just cold and a bit tired,' she replied, trying to hold in another shiver.

Taking her free hand in both of mine, I looked deeply into her eyes. 'Your rooms remain yours, my darling. You may take a bath and make use of your clothes in the bedroom if you wish to stay here tonight.'

Her eyes lit up instantly, making my breath catch at the sight. 'I'm not a trouble to you, am I?' she asked, looking a bit unsure.

'Never,' I told her, placing the whisper of a kiss on her knuckles. I found myself actually smiling as she nodded her thanks and drifted past me, through the dining room to the door draped in shadows. Remembering myself, I called for her to wait while I fetched a candle with which to illuminate the rooms for her.

She stood in the middle of her bedroom, watching me as I lit all of the candles. Nothing had been touched since…that night, only cleaned. This room I kept exactly the same so that I could return to it to mourn her leaving me. Now it was filled with warm candlelight and… _her._

Excusing myself from the room, I caught one more smile and a thanks for my efforts. I thought my heart was soaring among angels to hear her so happy and to know she appreciated me.

Walking back to the kitchen, I determined to make her some tea anyways. It would at least keep me moving and thinking on something besides the fact that Christine was back in my house and she just kissed me…passionately.

To go from telling me she was no longer engaged to kissing me as though we were lovers is quite a jump, but I would do anything but curse it. The way her mouth had tasted was heavenly. Her hands on my face, my wretched face, were a bliss I had never before dreamed to know. Never had I thought she would remove my mask and then kiss me. Especially not like _that_.

I was drawn from these memories as the kettle whistled indignantly. I poured the tea, watching in my fine china how the leaves spread their colour throughout the water. It was a light tea, not likely to keep her up too late as she had wished to sleep.

I had just taken the tea strainers out and was searching for the tray to take it to the sitting room, when I heard her door close. I would have wondered at the speed of her bath were it not for the fact that I had had to work to coax the fire in the stove, find the kettle, and wash the dust from the tea cups before finding the actual tea. I had no cream to offer, but memory told me she did not generally like any.

Turning to greet her, I felt the wind rush from my lungs as I beheld her white lace dressing gown tucked round her slender frame in a long rose coloured nightdress. Her hair was only slightly pulled back at the temples as she always had it, dotted now with soft pink ribbons. She would likely braid it before going to bed, but I tried not to focus on such things as they often led to wanting to run my fingers through her hair, now scented along with her skin from the bath.

I held out her tea cup with the barely intelligible invitation to drink. She smiled anyways and reached past me to put in some sugar. With nearly beckoning eyes, she led the way as I drifted behind her to the sitting room.

She sat upon the divan as she so often did, tucking her legs up beneath her and pulling the blanket over them.

'Why is it so cold in here? I never remember you letting it get so,' she remarked with more curiosity in her tone than complaint. She did not want me to think she was unhappy. Sweet girl.

Meanwhile, however, I puzzled over a way to explain I had been meaning to die, without upsetting her.

'I—uh—was busy in my room and forgot to light the fire,' I told her, knowing it was at least half true. I _had_ been in my room, but I had left the fire unlit on purpose.

Looking over to the pianoforte against the wall, her brows knitted slightly.

'Is something wrong with the piano? It's covered in dust,' she gestured to the long neglected instrument. Indeed all of my instruments went untouched since that night. Her absence had taken my inspiration. I had not found the will or desire ever play music again.

She was becoming suspicious now. I could tell. She knew that if something was wrong with the piano, I would simply fix it. I am never one to leave an instrument broken or untouched too long.

'Nothing's wrong with it, I simply have not played it in some time.' I was slowly becoming more honest with her. It was her penetrating gaze that did it as I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. I did not feel like sitting, but her becoming comfortable on the divan was making me think perhaps I should have.

Her eyes grew wide at my answer. 'You have not played? But what of your composition? Your _Don Juan Triumphant_?'

'Finished. If you will recall, I completed it a little while before…you left.'

Christine's eyes darkened some at the mention of that night, but concern was too prevalent in her features to allow them rest.

'But you said that when it was finished you were going to—' She stopped here, looking up at me in complete horror. Her eyes watered and her lips quivered. It all had clicked into place, finally. I ducked my head from the sight, feeling like a guilty child who had been caught stealing sweets. Only I had done far worse. I had tried to die.

Christine set down her cup on the table beside the divan and hurried to me in a flurry of white lace and rose scent. Before I could react, her arms had encircled me, pinning my hands to my sides as her head crashed into my chest.

'No! You cannot die! You cannot! There is still so much…I need you, Erik! I cannot let you die!' She cried into me, clinging with surprising strength to my slender frame. In her despair, she slid down some, allowing me to free my arms from her grasp to hold her to me.

'I won't, my angel. Not so long as you need me. I will stay for you. Anything for you, my darling Christine.' I tried to sooth her, smoothing down her curling hair and whispering hushed words to her.

'Don't leave me, Erik. Please.' It amazed me that I had never heard anyone beg this of me before. Never. Perhaps one had come close in Persia, but that was too far back to count.

Looking down at the angel in my arms, I felt guilt and pity rile in my stomach. I had brought this upon her through my weakness to live in the Hell I had made for myself. I had let her go to be happy and that should have been enough for me, but it was not. I had wanted more and allowed myself to dream. I had not been content to live with what I was given, but to dare to wish for more. Yet now here was the sole centre of those wishes, crying into me and begging me not to die because she needed me. Ignoring the fact that we had kissed not an hour before, I would think this an answered prayer.

She looked up at me then. Something was shining in her eyes and I did not have the strength of will left to name it. I never had the strength for that one emotion. It would burn me to try to touch it.

'Erik, I l—' She stopped suddenly, perhaps realising what she had just tried to say. I looked at her with tired patience, not expecting anything from her. Not a thing. She had given far more this night than I could ever comprehend.

Releasing me, making my arms feel hollow without her warmth, I watched as she stepped back, her eyes distant as she looked troubled. She gazed back at me for a long moment, seeming to consider something.

'Erik,' she said slowly, 'I need to show you something, but I'm not sure I'm strong enough.'

My mind was a blur of possible answers before finally landing on a guess. 'Did that boy hurt you?' I asked, rage already pooling in my gut. I would rip that foolish fop to shreds if he had harmed my darling Christine.

'No. No, it's nothing Raoul did,' she said, not meeting my gaze and missing my sneer at her familiar name for the boy. 'I just…need you to be prepared.' She searched my now perplexed gaze a second longer before walking off to her room.

I stood, waiting for I knew not what. I tried to wrack my mind around any answer, but it only came up empty.

After what felt like hours, I looked up again to see her silhouette in the darkened dining room.

'Erik, please. Take off your mask.'

I instantly shook my head.

'Please,' she persisted. 'Please, I just need you to see me with your own eyes, not the mask's.'

I swallowed heavily, eyeing her shadowed form as I slowly removed it and turned to place it on the piano behind me. When I turned back round, Christine had moved into the light of the living room, standing in the doorway. Only, it no longer looked like Christine.

I instantly fell back upon the piano with a yelp, clutching at my heart as I saw it standing in the doorway. It had her beautiful hair and body, but it's face! God! It had my face!

My illogical brain instantly flew to the conclusion that I had done this to her. My kiss, my poisonous touch had turned her into me. I fell to my knees, crying out at this thought. I had destroyed my beautiful Christine! Her pert nose was gone, leaving a gaping hole, her eyes were slightly sunken, though not as much as mine, and her skin was so thin over her skeletal bones that she looked like a corpse left to desiccate. Her rosy cheeks were higher and though looking healthier than mine where still a pale yellow from lack of sun.

She had remained still during my initial reaction, but when I fell, she started to sob uncontrollably. She hid her face in her hands as she too crumbled to the floor in a hopeless bundle.

'Raoul was wrong!' she wept. 'He said you were the only one who could still love me and he was wrong!'

This brought me back to the world a bit. I started to straighten, wondering what in God's name I was supposed to do.

'I showed him my face and he almost had a heart attack. He tried to love me, but he couldn't. He said it was too much. As if I could change it! He said society would never accept me and I would have to hide forever. He told me he didn't want that for me and that we couldn't get married. He said it was unfair for him to pretend to love me, but that you would, still. He said if anyone could care about me like this, it would be you. That's why I came. I thought-I thought you would still love me-e!' Her words were broken by sobs as she wailed into her hands at her despairing situation.

I sat there, not feeling the cold of the floor seep up into my legs. I was too busy watching the woman I thought to be an angel in human form cry her eyes out on my floor. I saw her for the first time in our acquaintance. Truly saw her.

Half-shuffling, half-crawling along the floor, I neared her as sobs wracked her body. I reached out, needing the assurance that she was real. That this was not all some sort of twisted dream.

My fingers landed on her shoulder, but they were not done until the whole sobbing mess of a girl was in my arms completely. I held her to me, forgetting and not caring that my mask was on the piano across the room. I had Christine and that was all that mattered. She was all I wanted to have now that the world appeared to be ending.

'I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry!' She repeated this many times over like a mantra. I simply held her, shocked into silence.

Her quivering form shook more as her sobs increased into my chest, still wet from her earlier bout of tears. She was too beautiful to cry this much. This thought struck me as I looked down at the dark curls of her hair. She was still Christine. She was my darling angel who inspired me beyond reason. She was my muse and love and life and _I_ had made her cry because of my poor reaction.

Thinking back to her response the first time she saw me without the mask, I felt my stomach drop somehow further. How wicked I was being. Back then I had wanted nothing more from her than to accept me for the man beneath, and now, she came seeking the same thing only to be turned down for a horrible coward. I had recoiled from her simply for her face. I had forgotten who exactly held my heart.

It was when she looked up at me, possibly to ask forgiveness once more, that I saw her through it all. There was my Christine, strong, smart, talented, and oh so beautiful. I loved her. I poured all of my love into my gaze. Making her stop mid apology to allow a light of hope to entre.

'Christine,' I nearly wept at seeing her again. 'Oh, Christine. Of all people, I can understand you. Why did you not tell me sooner?' I rested my hand on her cheek, thumbing away some of her tear trails. I realised now that she had not wished me to touch her for fear of discovering the mask she wore. I would wish to see it and know the secret of her long held deception, but that was for later.

'Oh Erik,' she looked as though she were about to melt into me, 'I thought you would not love me anymore. I thought that an angel like you could never love a face like mine. I was afraid that you would hate me.' She ducked her head from me, not even burying it in my chest as was her wont.

'My silly angel.' I smoothed back her hair to stop it from sticking to her face. 'I could never hate you. I love you for all that you are. You are the most beautiful woman to walk this Earth. I do not deserve you.' I meant every word and perhaps she believed me as her eyes instantly came to meet mine upon my first renewal of love.

'Y-you do?'

I smiled. 'Such a silly thing you are to doubt my heart. Can you hear it? It beats only your name forever.'

She smiled tearfully, wrapping her arms round my neck and weaving her fingers into my dark hair. I sighed into the swoop of her neck where it met the clavicle. I would have liked to nip the skin there as she smelled so tantalising. She had awoken something in me earlier, and if she was smart she would either leave me to sit in the icy waters of my lake for a time, or would dare to allow me to sake my hunger.

Her next words offered me a third option.

'Promise you won't leave me.'

It was just above a whisper in my neck, using the embrace to hide her face.

I had to work a bit to pry her from my neck—a foolish decision, really, as I had been wanting that contact for far too long—before I could find her soft green eyes again.

'Christine, I love you too much to let you go again. I fear that unless you do something now, you will have me near you for the duration of your life.'

I was being honest, and she knew it. I could see it in her gaze. So it was by choice when she leaned forward to peck me on the lips.

This was all the encouragement I needed. She was the one who needed assurance this time, and oh was she going to get it. I pulled her head towards mine, using her hair as a firm hold while my lips danced with hers. It was not long before her mild sobs and laughs parted her lips enough for me to deepen our kiss. I leaned her back until I thought I might burst from wanting her. Her hip bones knocked against mine, sending shivers up both our spines. I could feel it in her as I dipped her as if in a seated tango. Her fingers covered almost every inch of my face with adoring caresses. I intended to do the same for her, only with my lips.

I travelled first to her chin, kissing the round point of it before skating my breath up to her slightly hollow cheeks. I nibbled her earlobe on the way up to her brow, making her gasp and clutch at the thin hairs at the back of my neck as well as deep into the muscles of my shoulder. I then trailed my lips to the end of the bridge of her nose, enjoying the wide blast of hot breath escaping the gaping cavity there much like my own. Placing a quick kiss beneath each eye, treasuring the taste of her tears in my mouth, I worked my way back to her now begging and neglected lips. I made up for lost seconds by putting every ounce of my love into her.

When we broke once again for air I went down to her throat. It was the case which held the prized jewel of song within her. I sucked at it lightly, hearing her moan.

'Sing,' I commanded in a whisper.

She let out a few notes, setting them ringing into the air to fall like starlight around us. I hummed into her throat, kissing it again before returning to her face. She was like me, only beautiful.

Where I had suffered all of my life for the mistakes that were my features, she had been able to hide and blossom into something pure. She was good where I was wicked. The light to my dark.

As we sat there, still panting from our ministrations, a few questions began to form on my lips. She must have seen them, for she nuzzled into my throat, simply resting.

'How long have you…?' How do you ask the woman of your dreams how she looks like someone you would have called monster? How do you look at a woman you love only to see the features you hate in yourself being so stunningly gorgeous?

'Since I was born,' she answered. 'Papa used to have me wear fabric masks we would paint so I would not stand out. We travelled so much because he was afraid someone would try to take me or hurt me if we stayed in one place for too long.'

She was probably right, I thought, remembering well my own childhood.

'When he died, it was not only my last tie to a family, but also the last person who knew and accepted me. Papa loved me no matter what. He promised me the Angel of Music not only to teach me, but also to protect me from the people in this world who would try to hurt me.'

At the mention of my old misbegotten title, I held her closer. I wished with all of my might that my arms could be the shielding wings she had so desperately hoped for and needed. At the same time, I was now beyond glad it had been me who had found her first. I could have understood better then, had I known.

'When I got older, I found they had made a new kind of rubber which looked more like skin. I had a mask made. I attach it and fit it with stage make up. It was easy enough, working in the Opéra, to explain why I had such things.'

Here she held me more firmly before meeting my eye. I knew this had been coming, but I had yet to plan out my responses for her.

'When I first saw you, I was so shocked to see someone like me, I just could not think. If you had not scared me so, I would have told you. But after all the terrible things you said about hating your face, I thought that surely you would hate mine just as much. I had never felt so alone in all my life. I know now it was simply because you were scared. I understand, Erik. I would have been scared too.' She looked down, almost ashamedly. Meanwhile my heart felt like it were being trampled by an elephant.

'Christine,' I could have cried her name, but instead I implored her attentions. 'I am sorry I said all of those things. I did mean them, but not of you. Never of you. If I had known, I never would have…Oh, Christine!' I held her even closer, wishing to simply meld and become one with her. 'Forgive your Erik! Forgive his foolishness. He never meant to hurt you! Never! I will never speak an ill word of it again, I swear.' Yes, I was begging, but I loved her too much to do anything otherwise.

Her round, nearly luminous green eyes shone up at me. They were like two exquisite gems shining in the sunlight. Her lips were red from our kiss, but still making that effortlessly perfect Cupid's bow and rich lower lip. I could have kissed her all over again until she said the words I had only recently realised I had been waiting my whole life to hear from her silvery voice.

'I love you, Erik.'

 **A/N: So, as some of you may have guessed, the second question which inspired this fic was from agent-jaselin asking: "To Kay!Erik, If Christine's face was an elaborate mask, and she actually had a deformity similar to yours, would you still love her?" I think the answer is pretty straightforward here. I hope you all liked this and please, go check out askthephantom-blog-blog. It's funny and wonderful. Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate all of the support my readers, followers, and favouriters have given over the course of my fanfic writing.**


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